Melodic and whispering Birdsong,
Joined by the enthralling sound of wind,
I escaped the night into the
Bewilderment what’s causing the water’s
Outpouring in my solemn face.
Spring has come and for Each
Blossom of this delicate alluring flower,
Every part is a journey of remembering
That in my brokenness, a wandering stranger held the
Pieces of my shattered self, and jointly smell:
The essence of the delicate life that I –
In my solitary distant world, know
Be set free. I take my time, and Yes! you’re
Intriguing, yet jaunty presence so very close
I can tell you’re with me by-and-by.
I am personally enjoying today’s writing prompt for NaPoWriMo – golden shovel. This form was invented by Terrance Hayes in his poem, The Golden Shovel. The last word for each line of Haye’s poem is from Gwendolyn Brook’s poem We Real Cool.
Well, it’s a bit of tricky form to follow for a poem, but it can be made simpler by choosing a short poem to shovel-ize. In recognition to one of my favorite poets, I picked a Rumi’s translated poem from Coleman Bark’s – Rumi: The Book of Love. If you read the ending word of every line from the poem written above, you are reading this Rumi’s poem – Birdsong, Wind …
the water’s face.
Each flower, remembering the smell:
I know you’re close by.
These spiritual window-shoppers,
who idly ask, ‘How much is that?’ Oh, I’m just looking.
They handle a hundred items and put them down,
shadows with no capital.
What is spent is love and two eyes wet with weeping.
But these walk into a shop,
and their whole lives pass suddenly in that moment,
in that shop.
Where did you go? “Nowhere.”
What did you have to eat? “Nothing much.”
Even if you don’t know what you want,
buy something, to be part of the exchanging flow.
Start a huge, foolish project,
It makes absolutely no difference
what people think of you.
Rumi, ‘We Are Three’, Mathnawi VI, 831-845
When a baby is taken from the wet nurse,
it easily forgets her
and starts eating solid food.
Seeds feed awhile on ground,
then lift up into the sun.
So you should taste the filtered light
and work your way toward wisdom
with no personal covering.
That’s how you came here, like a star
without a name. Move across the night sky
with those anonymous lights.
Photo from Star in the Night Sky by Steven Kelly
(Mathnawi III, 1284-1288)
“Say I am You” Coleman Barks Maypop, 1994